Small Additions
by Nightingale0708
Summary: (sister!fic) Sam and Dean Winchester. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business. Family. The brothers get a huge surprise when they realize that their family is a little bigger than they first thought. Dealing with vengeful spirits, demons, and disappearing dads, the Winchesters have trouble keeping up the fight. Sam and Dean, meet Scarlett. Set after 1.19, before 1.20.
1. Foundation

**November 2, 1983**

 _It's nighttime. We're in a street, in a residential area. We zoom on a house. It's painted green with a white trim on the windows. There's a chimney and a front porch. The lawn is green and looks well cared for. Everything seems normal. Suddenly, a scream pierces the air. Female, by the sound of it. And scared._ Terrified _. All is quiet until light burns through the cracks in the curtains in one of the rooms. It's as though someone turned on a few lights inside. You'd think that... until flames start eating at the curtains holding the light in. It wasn't electrical, artificial light filtering through the flaming curtains. It was_ fire.

 _The view zooms inside the house. We're in a nursery, one for twins. The room is decorated with various shades of blue and pink, with sprinkles of white and silver. One boy and one girl. The crib, which the twins share, only holds one baby. It cries while lying on the white blanket embroidered with blue clouds and a black and red airplane, a yellow and green plaid quilt. The baby is wrapped in a soft blue blanket with navy blue ducks sewn in the corner. There's a blood splatter next to the baby's head._

 _A man is on the floor, a heartbroken look on his face, his tortured hazel blue-greenish eyes glued to the ceiling. The view pans to the ceiling. A woman, blonde and with icy blue eyes riddled with pain, is pinned to the ceiling. Her stomach is cut, dripping blood. She tries to gasp out something,_ anything _. But it wasn't meant to be. As though spurred on by her efforts, flames were erupting from her body, swiftly covering the ceiling and making its way down the walls._

 _A particularly loud wail from the remaining baby, a boy, broke the man out of his nightmarish trance. He stood as quickly as he could, grabbing the baby in his arms and rushing out of the quickly collapsing nursery. He sees his oldest son in the hallway, awoken by the screams of his mother, the yells from his father, and the cries of one of his younger siblings. All babies sounded the same to a child his age. His parents seemed adept in the art of telling whether the cries belonged to the boy or the girl._

 _"Daddy!" The eldest child yelled as he saw his father, fear flickering through his green eyes. The older boy stood in shock as his father shoved the bundle wrapped in a blue blanket into his hands. He froze, not knowing what to do. This was the first time one of his parents had allowed him to hold one of the babies unassisted._

 _"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back!" The boy hesitated, looking at his father, green eyes filled with alarm, swimming with tears. Seeing his son's doubt, the older man felt his patience ran thin. "Now, Dean! Go!"_

 _Spurred by his father's harsh voice, one that he would come to be well acquainted with in the coming years, the boy- Dean- ran down the stairs, careful not to jostle his younger brother, supporting the baby's head. His father, meanwhile, ran back towards the nursery, his mind desperately trying to keep up with the fast-paced and life-changing events of the night. He needed to save his family._

 _When he got there, he was too late._

 _The nursery was in flames. Nothing was salvageable. Not the crib, not any of the stuffed animals, nor the bookshelf that he and Mary had painstakingly filled with children's books, half of them filled with the knights and trains for little Sammy, the other half with fairies and princesses._

 _Not the body pinned to the ceiling._

 _Denial ripped through the man like a wildfire. **(heh, i'm funny)**_

 _"Mary!" He screamed, choking on the smoke that was quickly filling the room. "Mary!" He repeated, hopelessly hoping against all hope for some sort of reaction from the body of his wife that was completely engulfed in flames, though he wasn't completely sure that that was what he wanted. He coughed again, shielding his face with his arms against the almost_ not natural _flames currently engulfing the nursery of his two youngest children. He frantically glanced around the room, searching for his youngest child amid the overflow of the orange blaze, yet she was nowhere to be found. He let out something that sounded like a sob, a dry one that did nothing but make his throat feel worse in the smoky haze. His eyes watered, his throat burned, his chest ached, though he didn't think it was from the smoke. His_ heart _ached._

 _The flames roared around him, the sweltering heat burning his very_ soul _. His heart felt like it was being torn in half as the flames roared and he stumbled backward to avoid getting the front of his body charred beyond recognition. Fire now covered everything that_ could _be covered. The toys, the bookshelf filled to the brim with children's books, the crib. Everything._

 _Back outside, Dean had reached the front lawn, his younger brother in his arms. Looking down at the crying face currently snuggling into his chest, small fists twisting in his shirt, Dean rushes to comfort the infant._

 _"It's okay, Sam." The eldest child says, looking up at the window of the nursery, where flames were currently licking at the window frame. His face furrowed in confusion. Where was his daddy? Suddenly, his feet left the ground as strong arms wrapped around him, carrying him off the lawn. Dean tightened his grip on Sam as flames exploded out of the window, shattering the glass and making it rain down on the remaining members of the family._

 _Minutes later, firefighters were trying to extinguish the flames licking at the sky. Water was spewing out of the long, heavy-duty hoses the firefighters were using to try and drown out the heat of the flames. The heat was great, even from ground level. There was a gaping hole where the nursery was, the fire's embers and sparks rising to the night sky._

 _The man from before was leaning against the hood of a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, hugging the remaining infant- Sam- to his chest. One arm was draped around the shoulders of his oldest son, who was shivering with a blanket wrapped around his little body. Dean's green eyes were watery with unshed tears. He knew something had happened. He didn't know what happened, exactly, but he knew it was bad. His Mommy was missing, his sister was nowhere to be found. Correction,_ really _bad._

 _The man looked up from looking down at his second-to-youngest child (who was really the youngest now), moving his mournful gaze as it turned to anger and pain. He glared at the burning window, resent settling in his stomach and making bile rising up in his throat. He'd been cleared by the paramedics' examinations, thankfully. The fact that he was still able to breathe and talk without too much trouble was the only reason he wasn't sitting in the back of an ambulance right now, instead of holding his only remaining infant child. A single tear escaped his eye as he thought about his wife and his missing daughter. Dean would only have vague memories of his mother, probably even less of his little sister, whose eyes were already shifting from that undecided, clear infant blue to her mother's icy blue with flecks of Dean's brilliant green. Remembering the tuft of wavy, dirty blonde hair that sat atop his daughter's head pulled at his heartstrings and he once again glared at the flames consuming the top portion of his house. The house that had his and Mary's name on the lease._ _He had to look away from the sight of the house that held so many happy memories for both him and Mary, the most recent ones holding Dean, Sam and Scarlett._

 _That was one of the last moments that John Winchester had in Lawrence, Kansas. Glaring hatefully at the flames encompassing his home, holding his two sons close._

 _The neighbors that the Winchesters had made friends with never saw John or the boys again. Mary was dead, her body was burnt beyond recognition. The baby girl was assumed dead... though they never did find her body._

* * *

 **July 4th, 2006**

Maya Gonzalez bolted upright, eyes wide in fright. She took many heaving breaths, gulping down greedy amounts of air as though she had just run a marathon. This dream seemed more vivid than the last.

She must've drunk too much at her family's yearly festivities for Independence Day. She blamed the multitude of jello shots her sister brought.

Sweat was coating her entire body, making the tank top she was wearing stick to her like a second skin, the urge to vomit that normally came with a hangover strangely absent. She leaned forward, putting her head in her shaking hands, her light hair falling forward. This was the second week in a row that she's been having these weird-ass dreams. The first week, her dreams were short, only showing snippets of the Winchester's life as a family. How they celebrated birthdays, when Sam was born. The second week had been about the boys as teenagers, in a high school where Sam was bullied and often picked on for his smarts. Maya could relate. She always felt that she didn't fit in because of her intelligence, which was significantly higher than the other kids her age. Dean, however, was the popular one. Getting with all the hot girls and having all the friends. Maya thought it was cool that Dean still looked after Sam even though they went to the same school and Sam was considered the "nerd". Maya had an older brother as well, and an older sister. Unfortunately, they weren't as close in age as Maya would've hoped. She was practically an only child.

Her brother, Ricky, was 10 years older than her and had graduated high school when she was in third grade. He never finished college, having dropped out in the second semester of his freshman year. He used to work two jobs. One at a restaurant in their local mall, and another in a shipping company that had bases of operations all around the country. Now, he was a driver for that shipping company. He barely had time to spend sleeping, much less with his family. Unfortunately, almost all his free time went to his friends and his addictions. Alcohol and drugs, being the most prominent. They'd even had a legal scare when he had to turn himself in to the police for yet _another_ DUI. Now, don't misunderstand. Maya loved her older brother, looked up to him. Ever since she was young, she and Ricky had a bond. Still, she had been disgusted when her mother had told her that Ricky used to suck the boogers out of her nose when she was a baby. She still cringed at the thought, almost 19 years later.

The oldest Gonzalez child, however, no longer lived with the Gonzalez family. She had a house in Camarillo, about an hour and a half away from her family in Los Angeles. She lived there with her husband, Alex. Her father was starting to get impatient, as well as her brother. Even her mother was dropping hints that she wants grandchildren. Maya couldn't care either way. To her, Alex was family. She always referred to him as her brother-in-law to people outside the family, even before the couple tied the knot. They both shared a passion for video games, as well as action movies, comic books, and sci-fi films. His job got him into all the cool Comic-Cons and first access to the newest video games. Her older sister, however, worked at the university that she had graduated from almost 24 years earlier, as a specialist in financial aid. Since she worked at the university, she could get her Masters degree for almost nothing, but despite her family's recommendations, she still was putting it on hold.

Maya herself was studying to be a lawyer. She had just graduated from Stanford University in her home state of California. She had originally wanted to go to NYU. She didn't know why. All she knew was that she wanted to get as far away from her controlling family as humanly possible. She didn't want to study abroad so the other side of the country would have to suffice. Her next choice was MIT, though she knew that it would be hard. MIT was mainly geared towards engineering or robotics majors. As a law major, she would have trouble. After that, it was DU in Colorado. She had family there and when she was a freshman, her cousin would've just graduated. She was really close to that particular cousin and his 3 older brothers, so that worked. She had gotten accepted everywhere she had applied to. Stanford had even offered her a full ride. Still, her plans to go to NYU were at the forefront on her mind.

Unfortunately, her mom had to have surgery on her knees. She'd been a runner most of her life so her knees weren't the best. After complaining of pain in both her knees, the doctors concluded that her cartilage was breaking down too fast. They wanted to perform a chondroplasty. After putting it off for years, Blanca finally agreed to go through with the surgery when the pain became too much to bear while doing something as mundane as walking. Blanca was never really one to sit still, so she figured the surgery was her best option. Everything went according to plan, but Maya had to stay home to care for her parents, not to mention that the hospital bills were going to drive them into a hole for the next 15 years. NYU was expensive, they wouldn't be able to afford her tuition.

Still, she had planned on going. _Nothing_ was going to stop her from getting what she wanted her whole life.

Her sister is the one that guilt tripped her to stay. She had said that even Ricky had stayed, even through all the rough patches he'd had with their parents. She said it would kill them if Maya left, especially since their Mom's surgery had just been completed. It was a low blow when she said that her leaving for NYU would drive Ricky further into his vices, as it had happened when the older female had left for CSUCI. In the ensuing argument, both sisters said things they probably shouldn't have said. Even now, four years later, they weren't on the best of terms. Maya still didn't regret the things she said. Those emotions had been pushed down for all her life and when her sister pressed her buttons, they all came flooding to the surface like Hurricane Maya.

Long story short, the eldest child point blank _refused_ to move back home, Ricky didn't want to quit his job, her dad's feet were swollen, so he had trouble walking himself. So the responsibility of caring for their parents fell to the youngest child.

Blood is thicker than water, her _ass_.

It was with great reluctance that Maya had given up her dreams of going to NYU and live in a penthouse there with a husband, maybe a couple kids, and driving around a sleek, black Maserati. She gave that up, stayed home, took her full ride to Stanford, and got to studying. She graduated Stanford with highest honors. She applied to Harvard Law School, got offered a scholarship there, which was quite a feat considering both Harvard and Stanford generally don't give any scholarships. Her mom was feeling better so she was going to dorm there. She had a bright future. Her job at the diner could be better but that didn't matter. Last month, her most troubling customer, a really disgusting human specimen named Gabe Ugliano, moved away to Virginia to live with his son, yet _another_ disgusting (not to mention perverted) specimen named Vernon. She had been saving up. With any luck, Maya would be out of California, out of the house, away from her family in 3 years. She could still move to New York, still work at a prestigious law firm there. Sure, she hit a few snags but everything could still work out.

She just wanted _out_. Out of this crazy, control freak family. Maya knew she had it better than most people but dammit, she wanted more than the life her family wanted for her.

On her sixteenth birthday, she remembered purchasing a bus ticket to Denver, Colorado and was literally inches away from stepping on the train, practically bouncing with excitement, until her sister had found her and dragged her practically kicking and screaming back to the house in Montebello.

She remembered the shock of seeing her sister, who was one of the last people she had expected to see. She had covered her tracks well, purchasing the ticket in cash. She even had her friend Emma purchase it for her, using her own ID. She had bought a ticket to a red-eye train, the departure listed as 1:30 am. She had left at 5, under the guise of going to her friend Sofia's house to study, never intending to return. She remembered wondering how her elder sibling found her so fast, especially with the false trail she had set up, having her friends inadvertently set her family on a wild goose chase. Maya hated lying to her friends, but it had to be done. By the time the rest of her family realized something was wrong, she would be halfway to freedom.

The plan was to meet up with her family in Denver, hole up there for a few days, then move on to Arkansas, then to West Virginia, then finally to Massachusetts. Thank God her ex-boyfriend was willing to let her stay at his place in Andover for a few days until she could get her own place. Worst case scenario, she would be at his place for a little over a month. It should have been easy.

Then, _bam_. Her sister found her. _Months_ of planning down the crapper.

She still remembered the crushing grip of her sister's hand as it and its' owner pulled her towards the bus station exit, away from the freedom she so desperately wanted...

Stuffing her wild emotions down inside like she had taught herself to do at a young age (lest the light bulbs burst, _again_ ), Maya reclined back in her bed, not bothering to pull the blankets over her sweat-slicked body. (In this July heat, are you crazy?)

As she closed her eyes and began to drift off to sleep, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched.

 _Little did Maya know that her life was about to be turned upside down. She would come to remember the summer of 2006 as one of the most important of her life in the years to come. The next day she walked into her job at Pauli's Diner and had met two men (brothers) riding around in a muscle car in mint condition, wearing too many layers of flannel to be normal._


	2. First Meeting

_"I never meant to be so bad to you_

 _One thing I said that I would never do"_

One of Maya's favorite songs broke her softly from the blissful veil of sleep. She groaned and refused to open her eyes.

 _"A look from you and I would fall from grace_

 _And that would wipe the smile right from my face"_

As she tried to fall asleep once more, her brain broke through the haze of her sleep, reminding her she had work.

 _"Do you remember when we used to dance?_

 _And incidents arose from circumstance"_

She grabbed a fistful of the satin pillowcase under her head and pulled, yanking the pillow out from under her head and letting her head fall harshly to the mattress underneath her.

 _"One thing led to another, we were young_

 _And we would scream together songs unsung"_

Maya braced herself for the loud part of the song, putting the pillow over her head, but what she wasn't braced for was her volume dial to turn clockwise as far as it would go.

 _ **"It was the heat of the moment"**_

Maya bolted upright, green eyes alert, turning her head to see the man sitting in her desk chair.

 _ **"Telling me what your heart meant"**_

Seeing her brother lounging in her padded chair, she resisted the urge to cuss him out. It was still early after all. Too early for his bullshit, in fact.

 _ **"The heat of the moment shone in your eyes"**_

"Time to get up, princess." Ricky left her room without much of a fuss after that, pausing only to tug the covers from her bed, nearly yanking her off the bed. Maya grumbled some curses before reaching over and practically smashing her clenched fist against the plastic of her radio, successfully shutting it off. She never wanted to hear that song again.

A figure appeared in her doorway as she pulled her body into a sitting position, mattress bending under her weight.

"Baby, what happened?" Maya's head swiveled towards the doorway and concern stabbed her in the stomach.

"Mom!" As she took in the pale woman in the doorway, her heart sunk. The elder woman was leaning against the doorframe, leading Maya to believe that the pain today was worse than normal.

"It's six in the morning, you shouldn't be up," Maya said quietly as she walked over to her mom, locking eyes with her and helping her back across the hallway to the room she shared with Maya's dad. Maya eased her down on the bed, her mother's brown hair reaching out like tendrils around her like a halo.

"I heard something." The simple statement was spoken haltingly in clipped, quiet words. She wasn't talking a lot because of the pain, Maya realized.

"Mom, have you taken your pills?" Maya very nearly rolled her eyes as her mom shook her head. She reached over to her mom's nightstand, grabbing the orange pill bottle and twisting the white cap off. "Mom, you know these will help with the pain," she gently shook her hand to get one of the pills to fall out of the container.

"Maya, you know I don't like taking pills. Especially ibuprofen as strong as this, it-"

"Messes with your ulcer? Yeah, Mom, I remember," Finally, one of the pills fell into her waiting palm and she offered it to the older woman. "That's why you're supposed to have them with food."

Her mom chuckled fondly. "Smart-ass," she muttered under her breath.

Maya shook her head. "Nope," she stated. " _Great_ ass." She turned around to demonstrate, smiling as her mom let out a very ladylike snort. "I'll go get you your smoothie. Which one do you want? The chocolate or the kale?" She started walking out the door.

"Chocolate, please, baby."

"Got it." She flashed a thumbs up and a smile." Be right back!" she yelled over her shoulder as she walked down the stairs and walked towards the kitchen. Regretting not wearing socks as her feet met the cold tile floor, Maya tried to hurry her smoothie-making up. Blending together chocolate chunks, chocolate powder, bananas, milk (fat-free, of course, don't worry, mom), and a bit of peanut butter, Maya poured the thick smoothie into a tall glass. Grabbing a straw and walking up the stairs, she thanked any deities above for preventing her from tripping on the rug in the hallway.

"Here you go, mama," Maya said, handing the glass to her mother, who accepted it with shaky hands. She helped her mom drink about half the smoothie before allowing her to swallow the white ibuprofen pill. Maya absently noticed that the other side of the bed was empty and there was light coming from underneath the closed bathroom door.

She left her mom to finish getting ready for work, hoping and praying that the pills would help with her mother's knee pain.

Damn that freaking surgery.

As she walked towards the bathroom, she pulled her long, dirty blonde hair into what she hoped looked something like a ponytail. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and fixed her hair since it looked like she had roadkill on her head. She winced as she dragged a comb and a brush through her hair, finally succeeding in taming her blonde locks. She sighed. She looked nothing like her family, with her light hair and green eyes. She stood out. She was the black sheep. She always stood out in school because of her high grades, of the way she held herself, of the way she talked, which was much more sophisticated than her peers. She eventually developed a mask, one to wear at school. She would talk shit there about other people, she would act tougher than she was, though if it came down to it, she was not afraid to throw a couple punches. She would cuss there, but not at home, never at home. Her mom hated it when people cussed, so she tried to keep the profanity down to a minimum... unless the situation actually called for it. She stood out at school, but when she was a kid she always knew she fit in perfectly with her family. But now that she was older, she knew that she didn't fit in as well as she hoped.

She didn't always look like this. She used to have darker hair and her eyes were almost hazel. She fit in with all of the other Mexican kids at her school, just another blip in the sea of brown heads and chocolate eyes. As she got older, though, her appearance seemed to change. Drastically. The doctors thought it was odd but normal. Spending all the time that she was in the sun was bleaching her hair. Add in the chlorine from the pool and the salt from the sea, it was perfectly normal for her hair to change color. Her eyes were another story. She hadn't undergone any surgery or any laser treatment like many people at her school had accused her of. She never used contacts because she didn't need them. After explaining this to the doctors, they explained to her that as babies, it's perfectly normal for the eyes of the infant to change color. After (with barely restrained irritation) she explained that she was not, in fact, an infant in need of coddling, they calmly explained to her that the melanin in her iris was probably just breaking down and had she looked into a bright light like the sun recently? No, she had incessantly replied, she wasn't a retard. And they still hadn't provided a valid explanation as to why her hazel eyes had suddenly lightened to green, stayed for a few years, and then gradually lightened to include the flecks of golden bronze and blue.

 _Sigh._

That was a long day.

After a whole lot of arguments with the quacks that ran the damn hospital and almost beating up this jackass optometrist who acted like he knew the freaking cure to cancer, almost 20-year-old Maya and her mother had walked out of the hospital, both of them fuming.

Maya sighed as she got dressed in her work uniform. She worked at a diner so she had to dress like a 50's style diner waitress. The uniform was baby blue while the collar was white, as well as the ends of the sleeves and the apron that went tied around her narrow waist. On the apron, there were pockets that she could put pens in, or tips, or the notepad she would receive upon her arrival to the diner. Then, she sat down at her vanity.

First, some light coverage foundation, the mascara, then a bit of bronzer. She dabbed on some lipstick, then covered it with some lip gloss. She ran a small brush over her recently-threaded eyebrows.

As Maya pulled on her white Vans, she contemplated how she was supposed to wear these stupid looking loafers that made her look like she was supposed to be in the 1950's. Which, working at a 50's diner, made sense. Still, she preferred to be a bit more modern. Also, working at the best diner in town, she ran the risk of running into someone that she used to know during high school or during primary school. And she really didn't want to get in touch with anyone she used to know, except for a few people who's numbers were still saved on her phone. She never had the heart to delete them.

Satisfied that she looked okay for public viewing, she walked down the stairs, grabbing her purse and the keys to her Dad's old BMW 750LI. He never used it anymore, anyway. She was saving up to get her own car, either a Corvette Stingray or a Pontiac GTO. Either way, she would be happy.

Maya yelled out her farewells as she walked out the front door, closing and locking the heavy wooden door behind her. She sighed in relief when she saw that her brother already left and that his golden Impala wasn't blocking the driveway anymore. He had a really bad habit of leaving his car there and then she had to deal with waking him up to either move it or to help look for his keys so she could move it. It was a really vicious cycle that just kept going on and on and on. Still, she was slightly stung that he hadn't bothered to say goodbye, much less apologize for this morning's incident.

She slid into the driver's seat of the luxury car, the black leather not nearly as hot as it would be when she got out of work since the sun hadn't had the chance to heat it up yet. Maya started the engine and cranked up the air conditioner, putting it on blast. Suddenly, a beeping broke the silence in the car. She was almost out of gas. She groaned. She didn't have any time to get gas before work. She checked the temperature on the thermometer on the dash. It wasn't too hot outside, at least for a Southern Californian morning. She would have to get some gas immediately after work, though. As long as she didn't use the extra things, such as (unfortunately) the air conditioner, she should be okay to go to work and make it to the gas station.

In an already semi-frustrated mood, Maya tried to keep the _hi-i-just-swallowed-some-lemons_ look from her face as she reluctantly turned off the air and rolled down the windows. Getting her sunglasses out of the central compartment, she backed out of the driveway and drove about 15 feet. As she reached the stop sign at the corner of the street her house was on she turned on the radio and tuned it to the classic rock station that she always listened to, Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive blared back at her. As she entered the freeway, she turned it up even louder, singing along to some parts under her breath.

 _"And I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back"_

Her head bopped to the beat of its own accord and a smile found its way to her face, pulling at the corners of her mouth.

 _"I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back"_

She sang along to the song as best as she could, which was pretty good if she wanted to toot her own horn (heh, get it?).

 _"I've been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall"_

She belted out the words into the wind, not caring who heard her or who looked at her weird.

 _"I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all"_

And after belting out the last few syllables of the song, three songs later and a near car crash with some douchebag in a red Porche who started yelling at her in what sounded like Brazilian (she yelled a few choice words back, she wasn't afraid to say), she exited the freeway. When she reached the populated streets, she turned down the radio to normal volume. She winked at a few cute guys at a couple red lights, who got viciously honked at a few seconds later as she sped off when the light turned green, the only remnant of the pretty green-eyed girl in the nice car being her tinkling, melodious laugh as she drove past them.

Finally, she turned a few corners and she was at her job. It was kind of a far drive for work, especially at a diner, but the owners had helped her out of more than a few tight spots. She figured she owed them. As she pulled into the parking lot, she found herself enamored with a really gorgeous car sitting in one of the parking spots. It was a Chevrolet Impala, a 1967 model, by the looks of it. It was painted a glossy black and the rims were standard "old school" rims. Maya was sure that her dad would know the exact serial number of the rims but, alas, she didn't. She wasn't as into those things like her dad, who worked for multiple car magazines over the years, though she had picked up some tricks of the trade over the years.

The plates on the Impala were Kansas plates, **KAZ 2Y5**. Maya knit her eyebrows together in the perfect picture of thought. She had seen those plates, she had seen this car before. The question was where. She would surely remember the owner of a beautiful car such as this. She shook her head and rolled up the windows, stepping out of the BMW with her purse perched on her shoulder. She probably saw it drive down the road at some point or another. It wasn't a big deal. She closed the door and locked the car over her shoulder, walking swiftly to the diner where she worked.

If Maya had remembered where she had seen that car, she would've called in sick. Actually, no, she wouldn't have. Common sense would've pointed her to, but the stubborn curiosity that she was born with would win out, and she would walk in the diner anyway. Either way, she walked in the diner.

* * *

"I don't know, Sam. This seems like kind of a stretch, even for us." A 26-year-old Dean Winchester looked over the information on his brother's laptop for what had to be the fifth time. They were searching for any demonic omens that might put them on the trail for The Demon they were hunting. One they'd been hunting for the bulk of his life. They still didn't know his name, or why he killed Mary or Jess. That's what they were trying to find out.

"Come on, Dean. This could be the break we've been waiting for!" A disgruntled Sam Winchester, 22 years old, argued against abandoning what could be the clue they've been searching for all his life. Dean stared at his brother inquisitively.

"Local Man a Sith?" The disbelief in Dean's voice was paramount as he read the headline in the local blogger's website, which was responding to the disappearance of a family man who lived here in California and his violent response to his wife's pestering. Dean snorted, his green eyes bright.

"And here I thought you were a Star Trek fan." Dean finished with a smirk as Sam glared at him. He always made jokes when things should be serious.

"I am but I'm a Star Wars fan, too," Sam said, rolling his eyes. Dean looked at his younger brother, a deeply offended and affronted look on his face.

"Who _are_ you?" He whispered, leaning away from Sam as far as he could without making too much of a scene. Sam rolled his eyes again, the hazel orbs laced with annoyance. They had both watched the movies when they were younger, though Sam liked them a little more than Dean.

"Come on, dude." When Dean still didn't shift, Sam tried to reason with him. "Okay, what are the main characteristics of a Sith?" Dean pushed down the urge to say yellow eyes because that would only add more fuel to the fire.

"I wouldn't know. I'm a Star Trek fan, remember?" Dean snippy response only pushed Sam over the edge. He leveled a look at his older brother and somewhat role model that said _dude-if-you-don't-listen-i'll-look-into-this-myself_ and that convinced Dean to not try to antagonize his brother more, knowing that he would follow through with it. The 26-year-old leaned forward in the blue vinyl bench seat, trying to look interested.

"Okay then, Obi-Wan, what do we got?" Dean regretted asking the question as soon as the words left his mouth. Sam's eyes lit up as he quickly began explaining the beginning's of their case.

"Okay, so this guy, a local by the name of Isaiah Hardeen, gets into an argument with his wife and pushes her up against the wall-" Sam's explanation was interrupted by Dean.

"Kinky bastard." Sam leveled his brother with a dry glare. Dean cleared his throat and nodded, an indication for Sam to continue. Sam took a deep breath before complying.

"He pushes her up against the wall and starts choking her." Dean snorted and even Sam crackled a slight smile before he cleared his throat and schooled his features into a well-practiced poker face.

"Dude, are you sure the eyewitness just didn't want to explain to the cops that he saw the Hardeen's doing the nasty?" Dean question was met with a look from Sam that clearly said _stop-interrupting-me-and-you'll-find-out_. Sam cleared his throat.

"Apparently, Hardeen's wife, named Sofia, was cheating on him with..." Sam paused, skimming through the article. Dean took the opportunity to glance out the window and check on his beloved Impala. "Wow," he said simply. Dean shifted his gaze from his Baby to his baby brother.

"What? What 'wow?" Sam looked up at Dean's inquiry, eyes still skimming the webpage.

"Um, well, apparently, his wife was cheating with practically any available guy who would take her. It says here that eyewitnesses place her in a bar with the gardener, in an alley with the neighbor, and even in the backyard with the plumber." Dean whistled, shaking his head.

"Poor bastard. Are we sure that this isn't just some suped-up domestic dispute? I mean, guy finds out his wife is cheating, gets a little hot-headed, one thing leads to another, bada-bing, bada-boom, he accidentally ganks his wife." Dean still seemed convinced that the case wasn't a case, after all. Sam shook his head, still looking excited.

"That's not all," The light in Sam's eyes was really starting to bother Dean. "He pushed her up against the wall, started choking her, and snapped her neck." Dean looked at his brother in disbelief and made the so-what gesture with his hands.

"And? This sounds about as demonic as Hello Kitty." Dean grumbled the last sentence as quiet as he could. Sam finally got fed up. He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw before looking at Dean with the most potent bitchface Dean had ever seen, clearly conveying the message of _interrupt-me-one-more-time-and-you-won't-have-to-worry-about-the-demons-anymore_. Dean chuckled nervously, maybe slightly worried about the mental stability of his baby brother and his own health.

"Alright, grumpy, I'll behave." Dean rolled his wrist in the universal go-on sign. Sam sighed and counted to ten in his head. He turned the silver laptop toward his older brother, leaning back so his spine rested against the vinyl behind him. There were some articles about the murder in the background but front and center was a picture of the body.

"Meet Sofia Hardeen." Dean narrowed his eyes and his eyebrows creased, looking closer at the sort of grainy picture. It looked like the only injury she had attained was a cut on her temple that had barely shed any blood. Well, there was that and the unnatural angle at which her neck was bent.

"There was only that?" Dean asked, green eyes flashing up to look at his brother for confirmation. Sam only nodded and Dean turned his attention back to the picture. There were cracks in the wall, all originating from one point. Dean's eyebrows jumped up to his hairline, again glancing at his brother. Sam was staring outside, a pensive look on his face. The younger sibling's eyes seemed to be focused on some point outside but Dean didn't notice. He was too busy trying to figure out how this could've happened.

"So how do you think this could've happened?" No response. "I mean it does look like a demon but I'm still not convinced that it's the demon, ya know?" Dean glanced up at his little brother, then back at the computer, but then back to his brother once he saw that the younger Winchester wasn't listening to a word he was saying. Sam was leaning up against the window, close to flattening his cheek against the clean glass. He seemed to be looking for something... or someone. Dean, as quick as humanly possible, twisted around in his seat like a 5-year-old, his knees now kneeling on the vinyl seats.

There wasn't anyone outside.

Dean sent his brother a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. Sam shook his head, looking baffled and preoccupied, lost in thought.

"It's nothing. I thought-" Sam stopped himself from finishing his sentence when the bell over the door jingled. Both brothers turned towards the noise... and Dean's jaw dropped.

There, standing in the doorway, was a carbon copy of their mother, Mary, looking no older than 22 years old.

* * *

Dean felt like he couldn't breathe.

Was he transported back in time somehow? Was this a demon's work? Or a djinn? Dean had read about those in his Dad's journal and wasn't really looking forward to meeting one if the rumors and the stories were right. Dean was skeptical about that particular entry in the journal, to begin with...

But he didn't know.

And that's what scared him.

He barely heard Sam's questioning inquiries, his inquisitive questions. He only had eyes for the mysterious girl standing in the doorway, in a waitress' uniform that went down to the middle of her thigh, the blue matching the hue of the vinyl seats. Dean could've sworn that she was humming a song he knew, he just couldn't put his finger on it. His eyes followed her as she walked to the back of the diner, where the cooks and staff went to do their things. She had a purse resting on her hip, the strap on the opposite shoulder. The purse itself was black leather and was small, only big enough to fit a journal or maybe a book. Sam kicked him under the table. Dean started a little, tearing his eyes from the girl, who had noticed his gaze and was now staring at them like they were creeps, and mouthed to his brother 'what the fuck'. Sam only gave him an exasperated look.

"Dude quit staring, it's creepy." Sam's hissed response to his wandering eyes grated on Dean's nerves. He wasn't looking at her like that. Dean sent yet another incredulous look to his brother, this time mixed with disgust and shock.

"NO!" Dean's outburst had reached the ears of the limited patrons that were at the diner at this time. The cook shot him a weird look from the pass that was visible from the dining area. The look soon disappeared, however, when he saw the girl, who had yet to enter the back room. She was probably interrupted from tearing Dean a new one when the portly cook by the stove called her name.

"Maya!" The mysterious girl turned around, her mood switching from slightly peeved to happy in a second.

"Hi, Pauli!" She said, her wide smile flashing white teeth. She quickly walked through the door leading to the back room. "How are you?" Dean heard the cook say, able to see them through the large gap in the wall, where the cook was... well, cooking. Maya gave the cook a quick hug and exchanged pleasantries. Then another waitress appeared from off to the side, this one about the same age as the cook, with dark hair streaked with gray.

"Sharon!" Maya's pleased voice reached Dean's ears as he quickly tried to listen in on the rest of the conversation. Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean shushed him. He tuned into the girl's conversation, keeping his eyes on the table, trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible.

"How are ya, honey?" The other waitress, Sharon, was asking Maya. Maya shrugged.

"Eh, can't complain." She moved behind the wall. "Got a roof over my head, a car, and a job. What more could a girl ask for?" Maya moved into view again, this time with a notepad in the front pocket of her apron and pen behind her hair. She looked at the other two workers, probably the owners considering the diner was called Pauli's Diner. She swiftly moved through the swinging door separating the staff area and the dining area, whipping out her notepad and pen. She immediately moved towards one of the other patrons, an older man who had a goatee and wore glasses, wearing a knit sweater. He smiled at her.

"Mornin', Abel. How are you?" Maya asked cheerfully. Abel shrugged.

"Ehh, Elaine still has me on that diet so..." Abel trailed off, inhaling through his teeth and shaking his head at the table in mock disappointment. Maya laughed, a clear, breathy laugh that made Dean want to join in.

"So not amazing, then?" Maya asked rhetorically. Abel laughed. Maya looked at him again gesturing with her notepad. "The usual?" Abel nodded thoughtfully.

"Sure." That was his only response, though he still sounded indecisive. Maya scribbled something in her notebook.

"Okay, oatmeal with a side of fruit." She smiled again, nodding and gesturing with her notebook once. She turned to leave but Abel stopped her.

"Wait. You know what? Make it waffles. Wi-with a side of bacon." Maya pursed her lips as she scribbled out Abel's previous order to write down his new, revised one. She gave the older man a look that he practically folded under. "Don't tell my wife." She smiled at his response to her disapproving look.

"Whatever you say, Abel." She said, glancing up at him and smiling in the middle of her writing. She started walking away but stopped herself and turned back to him. "Oh, and if you want some more coffee, just shout." With that, Maya walked away towards the pass, ripping off the page in her notebook and pinning it so something that looked like a clothes-wire and slid it down to where the cook was.

"Next service: waffles with bacon on the side!"

As Maya walked around taking the other patrons' orders, Dean's eyes (because they totally had a mind of their own) couldn't help but follow around the girl who seemed so familiar and yet Dean was sure that he had never seen her before in his life. Despite her striking resemblance to his and Sam's mother, there were some blatant differences. Mary had never liked classic rock music. She had merely tolerated it because John, their father, had liked it so much. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to love it. Dean now recognized the song she was humming when she walked through the diner's door. She was humming Highway to Hell by AC/DC, one of Dean's personal favorites. He was broken from his girl-watching when Sam kicked him under the table... again. In the same exact spot, dammit. Dean turned to his little brother, his expression a mix of pain, shock, and irritation.

"Dude, what the _fuck_?" Dean didn't bother to try to keep his outburst silent. His voice carried throughout the diner, bringing him the attention of both Maya and the patrons that she was currently giving a check to. She looked over and gave him a scathing look that would discourage a reaper. He hunched his shoulders, trying to hide from the ferocious female.

As the patrons accepted the check, Maya walked over to the boys, never once taking her icy, intimidating green eyes off the shorter one. When he had seen her making her approach, the taller one's eyes had widened and he had quickly alerted the shorter one to her presence, none too subtly. He had kicked him under the table, in fact. Maya nearly snorted as the shorter one nearly doubled over in pain. That had to be the third time Mr. Brown Leather Jacket had taken a steel-toed boot to the shin. She knew what that felt like. Too many years of playing competitive ( _very_ competitive) soccer had taught her that lesson. She almost winced.

 _Almost_.

When she reached the table, the taller and shaggier of the two smiled sheepishly at her. She returned it, albeit a bit reluctantly. This guy looked like he could cute his way out of anything, even if there was a dead, blood-stained body on the floor and he was holding the knife dripping with blood. His puppy dog eyes were some of the strongest she'd seen, so she resolved to try and avoid eye contact. His counterpart, on the other hand, looked like he'd already spent a few years in jail, with his shifty green eyes and hair closely cropped to his head. Not too close, like Army or Marine status, but close enough. Maya tried to recall where she had last seen that particular shade of green before. They looked so familiar. He was trying to avoid eye contact.

Heh. Keyword being trying.

Her voice came out sharp as knives and clear as glass as she asked the question she'd been absolutely dying to ask as soon as she got in the door.

"Alright, Hasselhoff, what's your deal?"


	3. Connections

"Alright, Hasselhoff, what's your deal?"

Dean winced at the waitress's question, not wanting to explain, but still slightly amused that she called him Hasselhoff. And even if he did want to explain, how would he? _Hey, sorry for staring but you look exactly like my dead mother. Or at least how she looked 22 years ago. Oh, how do I know? Well, I just took a peek in my Dad's hunting journal. It has a bunch of stuff in there, like how to kill vampires, werewolves, all kinds of other things that go bump in the night. He had a picture hidden in between the pictures detailing how to draw a pentagram and how to deter the plague from your house. Yeah, normal things._ Dean shook his head. Yeah, that would go over well. He had forgotten about the inquisitive waitress, who was currently looking to Sam for an answer. Dean tuned into their conversation.

"...just really stressed. We're just um, having a hard time at work right now and-"

"Oh, and what do you do for a living?" The waitress' tone was bitingly sharp. Dean snorted.

"Why do you wanna know, sweetheart?" The waitress narrowed her eyes at the older Winchester for his comment. She, apparently, didn't like the name 'sweetheart'.

"'Cuz I'm not sure if I can call the cops on cops." Her arms were folded and she again looked to Sam, who kept looking at Dean for confirmation on what they were going to do. Flash some FBI ID's? CDC, maybe? Something else that would get them out of the current jam they're in? Sam, after eventually noticing that Dean wasn't going to offer any solutions to their problem, sighed and looked to the waitress with his infamous hazel puppy dog eyes. She practically melted.

"Yeah, we're here in town for the funeral of Sofia Hardeen. We're family friends and we wanted to pay our respects." Sam's quick thinking probably saved them from a lawsuit and a pair of restraining orders because her gaze softened and her mouth fell open in an O. Her green eyes conveyed her guilt. Dean's mind pulled to a stop as he saw them. Something scratched in his brain, telling him that he should know her. Dean stared, knowing that something was off with this girl.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I-I didn't know..." She trailed off as her cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. She smiled and crossed her arms and covered her face with her hand. "Gods, I feel like an idiot." Her wording caught Dean off guard. He glanced up at her questioningly.

"Gods?" Her expression became guarded but her eyes lit up like a friggin' Christmas tree.

"Yes, gods." She doodled something in her notepad. "You've heard of them?" Sam leaned forward with interest, a weird glint of _something_ in his hazel eyes, something that Dean almost classified as recognition. So maybe this was some sort of pagan god that required sacrifices. It would explain why this random guy seemed to go ballistic on his wife without a second thought. Dean mentally shrugged. Anything was possible. Except for maybe angels. _That_ seemed implausible. Just as Dean was about to open his mouth to ask just which god, or gods, this waitress was worshiping, Sam beat him to the punch.

"Depends on which one." There was an easygoing smile on Sam's face that didn't quite go with what they were dealing with right now. Just as Dean was about to kick him under the table (again) when the waitress answered.

"Well, I would like to think that I'm a child of Zeus but my friends tell me I'm a child of Athena." She smiled brilliantly at Sam, who easily begun a conversation about... whatever they were talking about. All with a smile. It was an easygoing smile that had Dean's eyebrows scrunching in confusion. This wasn't making a lick of sense. As far as he knew, the Greek gods did require sacrifices, but they normally stuck to sheep and rams. They were practically extinct, _if_ they existed at all. Though he did remember Sam mentioning something about a book he bought while on their normal supply runs. He also remembered how excited he was when they went on their next supply run, almost a year later. Dean practically scrambled his brains trying to come up with the name of the book.

Peter Johnson?

No...

Perry Johanssen?

No, dammit, that wasn't it either.

Something with a P...

What the hell was it?

It was on the tip of his tongue...

Finally, the answer smacked him right in the ass and a triumphant smile found its way to his face.

"Percy Jackson!" Dean finally yelled, the smile on his face comparable to a five-year-old's who had successfully stolen some cookies out of the jar. The two looked at him with identical looks of bewilderment. Their mouths were open in a kind of _'what are you doing'_ look. Sam gave him a look that was a little more personable and would probably be censored, had they been on a tv show. Always good to know that both you and your brother inherited your deadbeat father's... ahem, _colorful_ vocabulary. Oh, joy.

Dean cleared his throat.

"You guys are talking about Percy Jackson, right?" His question was hesitant and he was dreading their answer. The two geeks shared identical bemused looks but the waitress seemed to have caught on, to some extent. She jerked her head in Dean's general direction.

"What cabin is he?"

Dean didn't like the sound of that.

He gave Sam a weird look as he scrutinized him, looking at him like he was a piece of meat. A few moments were spent giving each other weird looks and making weird faces. Finally, after Sam's piercing hazel eyes had finished their once-over of Dean, he turned back to the waitress.

"Either five or nine, I think." This time Maya looked at him with a look mixed with confusion, thoughtfulness, and disbelief. She turned to Sam with a questioning eyebrow.

"Nine?" Her eyes reflected her feelings of incredulity as they looked at him again. "Cabin Five I can get, but nine?"

"He fixes his car a lot. Knows the thing better than himself." Sam's innocent comment made Dean glance up sharply.

"Hey," he started, pointing his finger accusingly at his younger brother. "The Impala is not a thing. She is a beautiful piece of amazingness and she doesn't need, or deserve, your sass." The waitress glanced up once more from her notepad, a small smile playing on her face.

"The Impala?" Her voice was filled with awe as she gestured to the ebony black, sleek Impala parked outside that had John Winchester's name on the lease. "The 1967 Chevrolet Impala sitting out there. She's yours?" Her voice was filled with disbelief as she openly stared at the 'beautiful piece of amazingness'.

If he was being perfectly honest, Dean was a little surprised that she knew her stuff. It probably showed on his face because she rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Please. My dad used to work for a bunch of car companies. Rides, Lowrider, Dub, you name it, he probably has worked there before." Oh, that last sentence kind of poked at his interest.

"Lowrider?" Dean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. She nodded. He gives her a scrutinizing look as if he's making sure that she's worthy or something. She could see that he still doesn't really believe her.

Maya smirked and decided to show her knowledge. "327 engine, 4-barrel carburetor, 275 horses. A little TLC and that car is cherry." She winked at him, referring to the obviously good condition of the car. "But I'm guessing you knew that." Dean and Sam were a little too busy picking their jaws off the floor to respond. The brothers exchanged equally confused, baffled and amazed looks. Finally, Dean seemed to recover.

"Respect." He said as he held out his fist to bump, which she happily responded to, snickering.

"So, what can I get you guys?" She looked back to her notebook, pen poised to write.

Dean took a quick glance at the menu to confirm his order before saying anything. "Yeah, two coffees, please. And some cream and sugar for _this_ pansy." He gestured absentmindedly to Sam as Maya laughed at the offended look on Sam's face. Dean smiled, a real one that had the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'll have the 18 Wheeler."

She nodded, scribbling furiously. "And how would you like your eggs?"

Dean didn't even have to think about it. "Sunnyside, please."

Maya nodded again. "Alrighty then." She turned to Sam, looking at him expectantly. "And for you?"

Sam, apparently, already knew what he was going to order, and didn't need another glance at the menu. "I'll have the Loaded Omelette, please." Dean scoffed. Show off.

"Okay," Maya scribbled on her notebook again before pausing and looking at them again. "Anything e-?"

She was interrupted by the sound of the bell over the door jingling and loud, obnoxious laughter. Her head snapped up, probably to welcome the new customers. Her crystal green eyes widened slightly, then narrowed in anger. She clenched her jaw, turning down to her notepad and she mumbled furiously, just loud enough for both Sam and Dean to hear.

"Son of a _bitch_." Sam and Dean looked at each other, exchanging surprised looks at the waitress' language. She mumbled some words under her breath, some of which sounded kind of familiar, others that he (somewhat) recognized from spells and exorcisms that both he and Sam had performed over the years. Others he'd had Sam translate for him over the years. They were curses. Like cuss words. Dean nearly laughed. Dean was going to ask where Maya had heard the words but his younger brother beat him to it.

"Was that _Latin_?" Sam was trying hard to disguise the surprise in his voice.

Maya barely spared the younger Winchester a glance, using the opportunity to send Sam a weird look, her nose wrinkled. "No, you dork. It was Spanish."

Sam had the decency to look embarrassed.

Dean could see Maya coach her expression into one of stoney indifference. Her eyes were empty as they leveled the brothers with a stare that would make Bobby hesitate before making an argument. The boys' questions died in their throats. Instead, they each craned their necks to see the newcomers that put their waitress so on edge.

Entering the diner was a group of about 5 or 6 men who didn't look older than Sam, maybe 23 at most. They didn't look like threats, but if Maya thought they were bad news, then they were probably bad news. Dean decided against reaching for his waistband and popping a cap in their asses immediately, even though they did give him a bad feeling. He immediately didn't like the one who was apparently leading the group.

The leader was wearing an outfit that he probably thought was fashionable. Not that they know anything about fashion. All Dean and Sam had worn all their lives was denim and flannel, with heavy duty boots. However, whatever in hell this dude was wearing was a straight up catastrophe. Sagging jeans that were probably a few sizes too big, showing black boxers with what looked like bees on them. Not actual bees, mind you. Like printed cartoon bees that had the dotted line trailing after them. _Those_ bees. Dean nearly shuddered. This dude was a walking nightmare.

Then they saw the shirt.

Sam looked vaguely disturbed and disgusted.

Saggy Jeans Dude was wearing a skin-tight black t-shirt that didn't leave much to the imagination. If that wasn't bad enough, in big, bold, white letters:

FBI

And, in smaller print, right below the acronym, a really shitty pickup line that could pass for a bad joke, was printed:

 _Female Body Inspector_

Dean winced. Even he knew where to draw the line in the shitty jokes and pickup lines and that one was _way_ past the line. If he wore a shirt like that or used that crap-ass pickup line, no doubt he would be sleeping in his own bed in the crappy motel room he shared with Sam. In addition, he would probably have a hand-shaped red mark on his face.

Not to mention the bruised ego.

He henceforth banished the pickup line from his memory.

The rest of the Saggy Jeans crew weren't dressed all that better. If their jeans weren't sagging, they sure did when they crouched down to get in the booth they were occupying. There was one, however, that didn't look as bad as the rest. His jeans weren't sagging, he was wearing a fitted t-shirt, but it wasn't too fitted. He had a plain, olive-colored button up that wasn't buttoned, showing off the gray shirt he had underneath. He also wasn't wearing flip-flops, which was a plus. He had kind brown eyes and longish black hair that fell into his eyes. He was one of the last to get in the booth, looking in their direction before doing so. He locked eyes with Maya, who had looked over for a split second.

An emotion that Dean couldn't quite place flashed over Maya's face for a second. Just as he was about to put his finger on it, it disappeared, replaced with a look of stony indifference that made him stop cold. Not a lot of people could pull a face like that. It was a look completely lacking emotion, as though they didn't have a soul. The only ones he knew of that could successfully make that face were his father, his brother and himself.

How strange.

* * *

If Sam had a beard, he would have stroked it.

While the large company in the corner booth looked like trouble (normal trouble, not their kind of trouble), he was much more intrigued by the woman in front of him, who seemed oh so familiar.

He didn't know where he recognized her from. Perhaps they'd seen each other? On one of the many cases he had been on with his father and his older brother? She was close with one of the victims perhaps? Or maybe the next intended victim? Sam couldn't put his finger on it.

There was an itching at the back of his mind that he couldn't scratch. He knew this girl. The smile, the laugh, her mannerisms... He felt like he saw them every day. The way her tongue stuck out from her pursed lips when she was concentrating, the way that she tapped her pen aggressively against the notepad in her hands seemed like something he should know.

Sam got mildly frustrated. He could see other people with his psychic ability! Hell, he sees them _die_! And he couldn't figure out where he'd seen this girl before. Frustration built up inside him, some leaking into his hazel orbs. No matter how hard he tries, he just can't get a handle on his powers, huh?

As his anger clouded over everything else, Sam thought about how he wasn't able to save many of the people in his visions. Max Miller and his entire blood family, hell, he even had telekinesis! He couldn't save Max, Jim, Roger or Jess... especially Jess.

Sam clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white and his hands shook. He had been having visions of Jess' death for months before it actually happened. He'd dismissed them as mere dreams. _Nightmares_ , he'd called them. Next thing he knew, his beloved girlfriend (soon to be fiancee, if you looked through the search history on his laptop) was pinned to the ceiling, stomach slashed, being burned alive.

 _'No!'_

 _Sam brought his hands in front of his face, the heat making his eyes water and his skin feel tight. He heard Dean kick in the door._

 _'Sam?!'_

 _Sam didn't answer. How could he? The love of his life was pinned to the ceiling, mouth open, face twisted with pain, and he had done nothing to stop it. He had known and yet he had done nothing. Nothing._

 _'Jess!'_

 _Dean rushed in the room to see Sam cowering on the bed that he and Jess had shared, unable to look away from the burning body on the ceiling. The Palo Alto apartment was quickly being devoured by flames._

 _'Sam,' Dean had stated, more out of relief at seeing his brother physically unhurt than anything. 'Sam!' Trying to get the younger Winchester's attention was practically impossible. Dean then made the mistake of looking up to the ceiling, the origin of the ravenous flames. There he saw a blond female pinned to the ceiling, stomach slashed, blood dripping from the wound, face contorted in pain, mouth open in a silent scream, out of pain or urging, Dean didn't know._

 _He'd heard the narratives, demanded them from John years after the actual incident. His father hadn't wanted to tell him what had really transpired in baby Sammy's nursery. Yet he had still reluctantly told him what he knew, sparing no details._

 _The stories really didn't do it justice._

 _As Dean pulled him off the bed and out of the room, Sam struggled. He struggled with all his might, hoping beyond reason that he could somehow save his beloved. Somehow, that he could swoop in and be the hero that he was raised to be, that he wanted to be._

 _Saving people._

 _Hunting things._

 _The family business._

 _'No! No! Jess, no!'_

 _Tears forced themselves from Sam's eyes, whether from the smoke or pain or the loss or the burning_ white-hot _anger that he felt flowing through his body, through his very being, Sam didn't know. But all the emotions pulled itself from him in one word. One word filled with the loss that he had endured, all the pain that he had_ gone _through, everything he had been put through as a child, as a teenager, and now as an adult, pulled it from his body in one word. It erupted from him in a wave of energy that he was sure picked up dust._

 _Lights flickered and shattered in the hallway._

 _Dean's breath, not that he noticed, came out white, despite the raging heat._

 _Unknown to both brothers, lightning struck multiple times near a river only 15 minutes away, killing everything inside the river and setting fire to several trees. Sam would hear about the fires later and reminisce about the many afternoons he and Jess had spent there. Ironically, the lightning had struck the tree where they had carved their initials into._

 _As he yelled that word, screamed it to the heavens, cursing himself and his weakness, Sam felt something in him_ break.

 _'NO!'_

Crash

Sam jumped slightly as the salt and pepper shakers exploded, the eruption causing glass shards to fly everywhere. Dean brought up his arm to shield himself in time, the thick leather of his jacket providing sufficient cover from the sharp projectiles. Sam and the waitress weren't so lucky. He had closed his eyes in time but he felt several sharp stings on the right side of his body.

When they opened their eyes, both of them were peppered with cuts on their faces, arms, and necks, some of them still bearing the glass. The waitress didn't seem to be _too_ hurt, though. She had succeeded in bringing her notepad up in time to protect her face and only bore one thin cut above her left eyebrow and several small cuts on her forearms. Mouth hanging open, she absentmindedly picked at one of the cuts and removed a piece of glass that had embedded itself in her skin. Maya brought her hand up to her face, staring in disbelief at the piece of glass that was pinched lightly between her forefinger and thumb.

Sam immediately knew what happened. His anger had gotten away from him faster than he could pull it back and his powers had reacted to it. Like when he had pushed the cabinet away so that his vision of Max killing Dean wouldn't come to pass. His emotions had spurred the use of his powers.

Again, Sam had the urge to stroke his nonexistent beard. He almost laughed at how funny that would've looked. Then he realized that all the eyes in the diner were focused on him. Or at least in his general direction. Dean was looking at him as though he'd grown a second head, the elder Winchester's mouth parted slightly in shock, breaths coming in short and uneven bursts. He could clearly feel Dean's shock. It was radiating from him in waves and what shocked Sam down to the bone was the fact that he could _feel_ it. He couldn't see it, per se, but he could definitely feel the shock that Dean was emitting, each new wave hitting him as though it were his own.

Huh, empathy.

That was new.

Sam wasn't pulled from his shocked trance, his mouth slightly parted, when Maya's slightly bloody arm passed in front of his face, reaching for the silver napkin holder at the back of the booth, at the part of the table closest to the window. He barely glanced her way, in fact. He only stirred from his shock when he felt a gentle hand on the left side of his face and a sting on the right. He instinctively jerked away from the pain, his hazel eyes clearing of the glazed look they'd previously been holding. His gaze sharpened and focused, coming to rest on the woman picking at his wounds.

Maya had her hands up in a placating manner, a napkin in one hand and her other hand holding a small sliver of glass. "Easy there, tiger," Her voice was gentle but firm. "I'm just cleaning your face." After the slightly wild look in Sam's eyes died a bit, she carefully moved forward again and reached for his face, carefully removing the glass shards and wiping away the blood that fell through the open wounds.

As she continued tending to him, Sam looked at her with awe. He could sense her shock clearly but the thing that threw him for a loop was the fact that she also felt understanding, which was something he sometimes had trouble getting from Dean, who was against him using his powers in any way. It was... refreshing, to say the least. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but the other waitress on duty, Sharon, walked over, her dark brow furrowed in concern.

"What happened?" She asked. The other patrons in the diner had looked away by now, more focused on their food than the exploding condiments. Sam gulped. How were they going to explain this? Maya locked eyes with him, pausing slightly before nodding imperceptibly, as though promising him something. Sam closed his mouth and furrowed his brow, narrowing his hazel green eyes at the girl. What was she going to say?

* * *

Maya turned to the other waitress, forcing herself to wear a lopsided smile.

"Sorry, Sharon. Like an idiot, I dropped the salt and pepper containers." She said simply. Sharon's expression was unreadable.

"You dropped... the salt and pepper?" The older woman's voice was riddled with disbelief as she stared at the blonde. Maya could feel her resolve slipping as her facade flickered for a second. She forced her face into a mask of indifference as she locked eyes with the waitress before her. She put a little more force into her words as she repeated her earlier sentence, tapping into the power she thought she would never have to use again.

"I dropped the salt and pepper. They fell and broke. I'll clean it up." Maya felt a pang of guilt as she saw Sharon's eyes glaze over.

"You dropped the salt and pepper. They fell and broke. You'll clean it up." Sharon's voice was empty and devoid of all emotion as she turned around and walked away as though in a trance. Fighting the sudden lightheadedness that overtook her, Maya rested her hand on the side of the booth that the shaggy-haired man was sitting at. He quickly moved over and made room for her to sit, carefully swiping his hand over the vinyl seat to wipe the glass from it.

"'m fine. 'm fine." As she tried to wave him off, her body betrayed her as her knees buckled and she slowly lowered herself into the booth. Unfortunately, a ray of light decided to assault her eyes and she winced as a sharp pain tore itself through her mind, resting her forehead on the back of her hand. As the sharp pain faded to a dull throb she thought about how using her normally dormant powers had drained her.

' _Well, it has been a while.'_

She could feel the men's eyes on her. Inquisitive. Wondering. Thinking.

Forcing herself to lift her head, Maya met the other man's gaze, the one with the green eyes. There was an unreadable expression in them, something that threw Maya for a loop. She'd always been good at reading people, her strange "powers" that showed themselves a little over seven months ago helping her on that front. It started with simple things. Asking for seemingly impossible things, then receiving them. She had jokingly asked for her friend's car once, a beautiful '65 Pontiac that she had fallen in love with, and he had handed over the keys without hesitation. She had taken it for a joyride, had a few hours of fun. She had given it back eventually. But then things got weird. Every time she would ask for something or make a demand, people would trip over themselves to make it happen. Maya didn't know how to control it. That was a scary couple of months when she had hardly talked for fear of making someone do something that they both would later regret. The car thing hadn't come back to bite her in the ass, yet, so that was a plus. Then came the nightmares.

She would see people dying.

Yeah, real shocker.

It had started in the house where the Winchesters had lived, though those dreams had come after the brunt of her nightmares. She saw a family in danger. A woman screaming for help from one of the windows facing the street, banging her open hands against the window. Those had soon disappeared. Then came the Miller family.

She had done her homework on the Millers. A seemingly happy family. A father named Jim, a son named Max, a step-mother named Alice, an uncle named Roger. Everything seemed normal. In fact, it screamed the normal, apple pie life. The son's mother, however, had died in a fire when the Max was merely 6 months old. Jim had remarried, giving Max a constant motherly figure in his life. Yet, police kept being called to their home, presumably by concerned neighbors. Some called it domestic disturbances. Others child abuse. But Max never said anything. Neither did Alice. And it wasn't like Jim was going to reveal all the skeletons in his closet. So the police went away, eventually ignoring the calls altogether.

So why was she getting her visions?

In them, Jim was locked in his car by some unseen force, the garage door closed firmly shut being him and was suffocated by the exhaust of his car. Most likely carbon monoxide poisoning.

His death was ruled a suicide.

Next was Roger Miller's death. It was weirder than Jim's. While at work, Maya had sensed the beginnings of yet another excruciating headache and she barely had time to rush into the bathroom before she blacked out. Roger Miller, bringing home what looked to be groceries. As he twists open a beer, a shadow passes behind him. While putting it down, the window opens without any assistance. Roger slides the window down and shuts the latch, a confused look on his face, but it reopens again, the sheer green curtains fluttering in the night breeze. At this point in her dream, Maya was furiously whispering in her sleep, praying to any deity that was listening to make Roger not stick his head out the freaking window. Obviously, she was just asking for trouble. As Roger stuck his head out the window, it came down, decapitating him instantly.

As Maya jerked awake on the bathroom floor (hitting her head on the bottom of the sink in the process), cringing at the fact that she was sitting on the floor of a public restroom, she barely had time to reflect on her dream before Sharon was knocking on the door, asking if she was okay. She'd been distracted the rest of the day, spilling coffee and dropping pens. Sharon had eventually told her to go home early. She had sat in her car for the greater end of her shift, trying to sift through the garbled bits of her dream that kept flashing through her brain.

Later that day, she'd had another two visions. One of Mrs. Miller's death, Max's stepmom, and another of...

A sudden thought pulled Maya from her reminiscing and she could feel her eyes blow wide as she stared at the green-eyed man in front of her, thoughts finally clicking together. She'd been wary of the taller one because she's seen how dangerous he is, pushing away a cupboard with his mind without a second thought. She'd seen the shorter one's eyes before because he was one of the victims in her visions.

Holy _fucking_ shit.

Maya hurriedly stood up from the booth, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes and the sudden lightheadedness. She stared into Dean's eyes, remembering how she saw the light leave the startling candy apple green in them as the bullet pierced his head, painting the wall behind him red with blood. Remembering the dull thud as his body hit the floor, eyes open and glassy. Mrs. Miller's screams still haunt her.

Things just got a whole lot more complicated.


	4. Kinsmen

"Well, I'll be damned," Maya had stood up from the booth, backing away slowly and in a defensive stance, her eyes wide with shock. Sam didn't know why. Other than the exploding glass, they'd been pretty civil. Though from the look behind her eyes, Sam was guessing that their manners (or maybe lack thereof) weren't the problem.

Sam was about to ask what was wrong when she said something that surprised him more than if she had said that she was a demon.

"Holy crap," she said, shifting her stance a little bit. "You're real."

Sam froze.

 _Well,_ his brain supplied. _You've never heard that one before._

Finally, his brain caught up to the conversation, once again focusing on the shocked woman to his left.

"I-I'm sorry?" His question seemed to ground her as well, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"You're real." she breathed, smiling a slightly crazed smile that put him on edge. "I thought I was losing my mind." She once again settled in the booth next to Sam. She smiled at Dean, who furrowed his brows in confusion. Even Sam could tell that she wasn't meeting his eyes. For some reason, she was focusing right above them, in the middle of his forehead.

"Why would you think that?" Sam asked.

Maya focused on him with a sad smile, shaking her head slightly. "You guys are gonna think I'm crazy." She glanced Dean's way before continuing, locking eyes with Sam. She leaned forward, prompting the brothers to lean in as well. Her face was solemn and serious, her eyes resigned. "I see dead people."

Dean snorted. "Alright, M. Night, be serious." Sam glanced in Dean's direction for a second, as if to remind him that he wasn't always serious himself. Dean promptly ignored him.

Maya laughed lightly, leaning back in the vinyl seat. "Damn it, I thought you'd be fooled." The mischievousness died down in her green eyes, replaced by acceptance and if Sam wasn't mistaken, a little bit of fear. The poor attempt at comedy must've been for her own benefit rather than theirs. She sighed, leaned forward, and suddenly she looked... older. More tired.

Sam instantly hated that look.

"Alright then, you asked for it, boys." Once again she leaned forward, hesitating slightly before seemingly chasing the words out of her own mouth. "I have visions." She gauged the brothers' reactions and, realizing that they weren't negative, continued. "I-I can see people _die_."

* * *

The shaggy-haired man- _Sam_ , she realized excitedly- stiffened in the booth next to her. She faced him and, throwing away all self-consciousness, said, "And you have telekinesis, right?"

Sam's head snapped towards her, startling her slightly. His face was surprised but his eyes screamed at her to keep her mouth shut. She could practically hear him thinking _shut up, Maya, you're gonna give me away_. She pursed her lips, her comment dying in her throat. Didn't Dean know?

Speaking of the older Winchester, Maya glanced his way again, eyes wandering to his forehead. She couldn't stop herself from constantly checking that there wasn't a bloody, gaping hole in the center of his skull. She shuddered, thinking of the gruesome memory.

Dean, however, didn't seem shocked by Sam's telekinesis. He _did_ seem shocked that Maya knew about it. He exchanged a glance with Sam, seemingly having a silent, brotherly conversation. Maya frowned.

Rude.

They had company.

Maya must've thought-projected or something because Sam looked at her strangely and completely focused on her, simultaneously taking a sip of his water, hazel eyes piercing her goddamn _soul_.

Maya nearly cracked a smile. ' _Holy shit, you're being dramatic today, aren't you?_ ' She thought to herself.

Sam choked while sipping his water, sputtering like an idiot, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. Dean looked at his brother as though he'd grown another head.

Maya thumped Sam on the back, which seemed to help him clear his lungs. When they were free from any restraining liquid, he was finally free to laugh. He was practically doubled over, clutching a stitch in his side.

 _'Ding'_

Her head snapped to the side when she heard the bell, her waitress instinct kicking in. She saw Pauli standing impatiently by the pass, his spatula still poised in the air from hitting the top of the bell. She smiled sheepishly and flushed slightly. She slid over to the side of the booth, wincing as the meaty flesh of her thighs stuck to the vinyl seats.

Maya almost turned around and walked away before realizing how incredibly stupid that would be. She whipped out a pen from her breast pocket (green, of course, her favorite color), and scribbled what time she got off from work and her personal cell number on a piece of paper from her notepad.

"I get off at 5, but I'll see if I can get out early" She scribbled something else on the paper. "There's a motel a few streets from here. I'm friends with the owner. Say I sent you, you'll get one of the better rooms and a discount. Hole up there, then call me. My lunch is at 11. Text me your room number then." She ripped off the piece of paper with a bit of a flourish, folded it in half and held it out to Sam, pinched between her pointer and middle fingers. He took it, albeit a little hesitantly.

As soon as the paper left her grasp, Maya turned to Dean and stuck her hand out. An invitation.

"Maya Gonzalez, Capricorn," she said with a smile. She could've sworn that the corner of Dean's mouth twitched. That counted as a win.

"Dean Winchester, Aquarius." He shook her hand firmly, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips, his green eyes welcoming.

This time Sam stuck out his hand and they shook, his large hand dwarfing her thin fingers.

"Samuel Winchester, Taurus." Maya couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. Even Dean's eyebrows crawled their way up to his hairline. _Samuel? Really?_

Sam grinned.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. I don't normally use my full name," he explained, his white teeth flashing. Maya mirrored his grin.

"Sam it is, then." With one final smile at the boys, she turned and walked towards the pass, which was piled high with orders by now. She quickly was put to work, partly by her own instinct, partly by Pauli and Sharon's eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Maya bustled about the diner, picking up dishes and dropping them off in the back, dropping off orders at tables, cleaning tables and collecting tips. By the time she was done, the Winchester brothers had already left. Feeling a slight pang that they didn't say goodbye, she walked over to their table, intending to clean it like all the other tables. With a large amount of surprise, she noticed a few crumpled twenty dollar bills that very clearly went over their tab. On a napkin near the money, writing was scribbled. She picked it up, careful to not drop any of the bills, which added up to at least $50 maybe $60 over their tab.

 **Keep the change. Gas is on us.**

 **-S.W.**

Maya laughed aloud and glanced outside to the parking lot, hoping that she would catch the boys before they peeled out of the parking lot. Luck, as it would seem, was on her side.

Dean was behind the wheel of the Impala, a small smirk adorning his face. Sam was next to him in the passenger seat, a full-blown smile on his face. Maya grinned and scooped up the money on the table, waving it around for a little bit for the boys to see.

' _Thanks,'_ she mouthed, smiling. Dean cracked a smile and Sam merely nodded, his own grin still in place.

 _'No problem,'_ he mouthed back, hazel eyes twinkling.

And then they were gone.

Maya smiled. It was nice to finally meet the boys.

* * *

Down in Hell, past the many pits and bodies burning in the flames, past the range of the screams of the souls of the damned, there was a building that screamed 'enter if you dare'

It looked like a regular office building, at least thirty stories up, glass windows surrounding it. It looked to be made of polished obsidian, the glass looked to be permanently stained red, reflecting the flames of the fiery pit.

Up at the top floor, it was the penthouse suite, checked out to one of the Princes of Hell.

The demon, one of the original demons, eclipsed only by Lilith (that bitch), was watching the scene unfold with delight. He was the one trusted enough by his father to seek out his true vessel, the only one who stuck by Lucifer's side after his brothers left. The demon grinned.

It was an unnerving sight.

The smile was warranted, however. The plan was proceeding perfectly.

Max Miller's death had been a tragedy. He would've been so _easy_ to mold. Considering the abusive childhood he'd had, it wouldn't be too much trouble to get him to say yes. All the demon's father would have to do is promise deliverance, possibly revenge against those who'd hurt him, and Max would be under their control.

Lily Baker was also turning out to be an interesting specimen. She had accidentally killed her girlfriend around a few months ago, sending her into a deep depression. She would be a good place to start for a vessel.

The two that intrigued the demon the most, however, were the Winchester siblings. Considering their work before, the demon was sort of regretting not entering the Winchester's abode four years earlier. Dean would've been an excellent addition to his pack. Still, the eldest Winchester child had a large prophecy to fulfill, alongside those he loves the most.

Sam, however, was positively _fascinating._

The boy was Lucifer's true vessel, after all.

It was predestined. Before the boys were even born, centuries before their parents were even thoughts. When Lucifer, God's favorite son, fell, Fate had let loose a prophecy to end all prophecies. One that would affect the entire world as anyone knew it, with the Winchesters caught right smack dab in the middle. _Again_.

The demon grinned as he went over his grand plan. One to coerce Sam Winchester into saying yes to Lucifer, one that would help get Dean out of the way before he could say yes, one to bring little Scarlett Winchester into the mix. Stealing her as a baby hadn't been part of his original plan, neither was placing her with a human family. He'd had demons trailing her from a young age, getting close to her, watching her. It was the same with Sam. They both were stalked as young children, though with Sam it was harder, with John being a hunter and all. Always salting door and windows became a pain in the ass, if you encountered it often enough.

While manipulating Sam had been hard, trailing him had been harder. Scarlett had been easier, knowing nothing of the real world underneath her thin veil of normality. Both of their powers were progressing quickly. Sam had already developed premonitions, with telekinesis and empathy following close behind. Scarlett's powers had developed wonderfully, with verbal mind control developing before the premonitions.

So far, they were the only ones to develop more than one power. All the others still only had one, though each of them was powerful in their own right.

Down in the depths of Hell, reclining lazily behind his desk, at the top floor, Azazel's yellow eyes regarded the scene before him with delight, his unwilling vessel's eyes crinkling in the corners.

Yes. Things were going swimmingly. He just needed to contact his sleeper agent in order to put all the pieces in play. Snapping his fingers, he summoned the young demon before him.

She appeared a few moments later, kneeling immediately. "Yes, my Lord?" Her voice was quiet, respectful. Azazel's lips twitched. She must be new.

"How are things going with the Winchester brat?" he asked, not bothering to give a name.

The demon flashed her vessel's white teeth as she smiled, locking her brown eyes with her superior's yellow ones. "Perfectly, sir. Everything is in place. They have no idea of my presence," she said with an evil smile. Azazel nodded.

"Good. Subtelty is key this late in the game." Azazel's statement was met with a flash of the younger demon's black eyes as they reflected her excitement. He flicked his wrist, signaling her to stand.

"You don't need to kneel, Edme," He tilted his head thoughtfully, a wry smile lifting his vessel's lips. "Or maybe you're used to being called Kristy."

Edme-the demon possessing Kristy's body- scrunched her nose in disgust as she stood up and brushed off her suit pants, dark brown hair falling in her face. "I've never been in a single body this long, sir. It's..." she trailed off, seemingly searching for the right word.

"Disconcerting?" Azazel supplied.

Edme nodded. "To say the least, sir."

"Well, I've been in this body a while, Edme. Trust me, you'll get used to it," Azazel's statement was met with a quiet _'thank you, sir'_ as he stood up, standing and moving in front of his insubordinate.

"You have new orders," He watched as Edme's head snapped up from its submissive floor-watching.

"Yes, sir?"

Azazel smiles at her eagerness. "The Winchesters have found her. When the time is right..." he trailed off, thinking of what torture would be the most poetic. He smiled as he finally thought of something. "...make 'em burn."

* * *

It was 1706 when Maya finally got off of work, yelling farewells to Sharon and Pauli, a to-go box in her hand.

It was 1707 when she locked herself in her car, ready to decompress after a long day of work.

It was... still 1707 when she nearly burned the skin off the bottom of her thighs, the scalding hot leather practically flambeing the sensitive skin. She hurriedly tried to bring her knees up to her chest, succeeding in bumping the top of her knees on the bottom of her steering wheel and accidentally honking the horn while trying to maneuver around the offending part _and_ soothe the burning on her legs.

It was 1709 when she was on the freeway, phone buzzing in her purse. She reached over to get it, flicking it open and answering without a second thought.

"Hello?" She had to yell a little bit, due to the windows being open and letting the smoggy air of downtown Los Angeles in the car. Sue her, she was almost out of gas. Clicking her blinker on, she merged into the lane on her left. There was a chuckle on the other end.

 _"Hi, is this Maya?"_

"Yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?" she asked.

 _"The Taurus you met in the diner earlier. I was with an Aquarius about yea-high, looks like he just got out of jail?"_

Maya laughed. "The Winchesters, yes. I remember you. Thanks for the oh-so-generous tip, by the way. My car definitely appreciates it."

There was a chuckle on the other line.

 _"Don't mention it."_

There was a slightly awkward pause before Maya decided to break it.

"So did you guys get a good room at the motel?"

 _"Oh yeah, it's definitely better than most of the others we've stayed in. Thanks for the recommendation. I don't think we would've gotten the room without it. The desk clerk practically pissed himself in fear when we mentioned your name."_

Maya flushed a bit in embarrassment. "Yeah, Marco had a crush on me in our junior year in high school. He got a bit handsy at prom." she paused for a second, remembering the snaps and cracks of Marco's fingers when she broke them. "Long story short, he couldn't write for the rest of the year."

Sam barked out a surprised laugh. _"Geez, remind me not to get on your bad side."_

Maya chuckled lightly. "I aim to please."

Sam was still laughing softly when he responded. _"Yeah, so, we're bunked in room 23 on the first floor, towards the back end of the motel."_

"Yeah, I just got off of work so give me..." She trailed off, checking her location and the current time. "15 minutes?"

" _Yeah, okay. See you soon."_

"See you." The words had barely left her mouth before she heard the telltale click of the line being dropped. She brought her phone in front of her, staring at it in disbelief before chuckling and tossing her phone back in her purse.

A few moments later, Maya exited the freeway and turned right onto Wesson Street, driving a few minutes longer before finally pulling up to a gas station not far from the motel she'd told the brothers about. She climbed out of her BMW, tugging her wallet loose from her purse, before realizing that she still had the brothers' ever so generous donation in her front pocket. A small smile found its way to her lips as she placed her wallet back in her purse, pulling the 60 dollars from her breast pocket. She turned off her car and stepped out, shoes crunching on the gravel beneath her feet. She filled up her tank with 91, still having about ten dollars left over.

Bless those boys and their generosity.

After a moment's hesitation, she went inside the Gas n' Sip, taking a six pack of beers from the refrigerator in the back and placing it on the front counter with a thunk. After using the remainder of the Winchester's money, and adding a few dollars of her own, Maya walked out to her car, the cardboard of the beer holder cutting into the soft skin inside her knuckles. She entered her car, placing the beers in the foot space of the passenger seat and snuggled them in with the to-go box she brought from Pauli's so they didn't fall and break.

Not in her car, dammit.

As she pulled out of the gas station, she could've sworn she saw her older sister standing by the street light. She hit the breaks. _Hard_. The driver behind her hit the brakes too, honking and yelling various obscenities. Not that she was listening. All she saw was the woman who looked so much like her sister who, as far as Maya knew, lived an hour and a half away. She didn't notice the white-knuckle grip she had on the steering wheel.

She finally eased onto the gas, leaving the gas station parking lot and succeeding in merging onto a lane without hitting another car or the curb.

When she looked back, the woman was gone.

Dismissing the woman as a figment of her imagination, Maya kept on driving towards _The Green Palm_ , ignoring the prickling in the back of her neck that was telling her that she was being watched.


End file.
